My muse has such power over
my intimate side, that even as
I translate poems of those who
died brave and young, listening
to the sound of approaching
thunder as I do metamorphosis
on their sentences, my mind
and flesh burns with longing
to more than mere than words
and nature's coming cooling
showers. Yet it's with words
I need to tame her wild power
and turn it, a flame stolen
from the divine, into my own,
another metamorphosis
- while already the eagles
eat my liver as I lay chained
on this Caucasian cliff.
17.07.2024
#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse
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